


hiver’s moving chateau, or, in which she falls into a well

by lunardistance



Series: SH 30 Day Fic Meme [4]
Category: Sound Horizon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunardistance/pseuds/lunardistance
Summary: “This is not a punishment, but an opportunity.”(day 4: write a short fanfiction from one fandom set in the universe of another.)





	hiver’s moving chateau, or, in which she falls into a well

“This is not a punishment, but an opportunity.”

She rolls the woman’s words around her head as she waddles with the halting little steps that are the most her new body can muster. The pace at which she walks now is barely half the pace of her usual self – or is it former self? Ah, what a daunting thought to be this old for the rest of her life. Well, judging by her reflection in the well water, whatever little remained of it now, at least.

Somehow, that thought isn’t as scary. Perhaps being old lessens one’s fear of death? Although she supposes the young are quite reckless in their treatment of life, too. Case in point: her father, bless his soul. He’d always taken life by the reins, and now his body is rotting away in some obscure well.

She has never thought of herself to be as brave as her father, even though she had given him her promise to do her best while he was away. Until her stepmother and stepsister refused to let her have dinner for dropping the spindle into the well, she would not have contemplated dying for a long while yet. She’s seen death around her, lost her mother and then her father to its cold arms, but she had not stared it in the face until the moment she jumped into those dark, watery depths.

In retrospect, she had not expected Death to look so kindly. Once Death had rid itself of the witch guise that had scared her out of her wits, at least. Death had seemed amused that a girl like her had managed to reach the so-called boundary of life and death, especially when she had quite some time to go before she was actually due to cross over it herself, and bid her to share her story. Somehow, she had found herself spilling her entire life story to Death, who nodded along at all the right parts and offered her some apple pie and cider.

Who knew Death would be so hospitable, too?

After listening to her story, Death asked her what she planned on doing now, and she had been at a loss. What could a mortal do in the face of such forces, she had pondered aloud. What could a simple girl like her, with no education or highborn lineage to speak of, possibly do?

“Many things,” Death had replied, but not a single one had come to her mind. In the wake of her dumbfounded silence, Death set her mug of cider down and regarded her pensively.

“You need time to discover yourself, child,” Death said, her eyes twinkling. “Unfortunately, I find myself in no immediate need of a helper, so I shall send you off to someone who might be able to help you… and you him in return. However, time moves differently where he lives on the boundary, so in order to stay there, you must wear a different guise.”

And all of a sudden, she had found herself feeling rather achy; her image reflected in the well water soon revealed why. The guise that Death had granted to her was that of an old woman, wrinkled and bent and full of all the aches and tremors that the elderly are given to. She would have yelped and jumped in surprise, but her newly old body prevented her from doing much more than to give a shaky wheeze.

Death had smiled at her, as if knowing what she had intended to do, and moved close to bestow a kiss upon her wrinkled forehead. “This is not a punishment, but an opportunity,” Death said. “And you are a hardworking girl. I am sure you will be able to do it.”

And so she was sent off on her journey to the far heights of the boundary, with nothing but instructions to keep walking straight on until she reaches the castle. Feeling rather crotchety, she gives in to a grumble – why could she not have been changed into this form when she had arrived at the castle, instead of being forced to wear it from the start? But her father’s words echo in her mind, as they always have in her times of despair, and she finds the strength to keep pushing herself forward. Somehow, her body no longer feels as heavy, and she even finds herself humming one of the tunes her father had taught her.

The path is shrouded in darkness, but it slowly gives way to pinpricks of light that become more and more numerous as she walks on. Ahead of her, she spots a glowing building that grows larger as she approaches, until she can finally see it for the grand estate that it is. A castle lying on a bed of stars: it is almost as if it were ripped straight from a storybook.

She makes her way to the entrance of the castle, and takes a moment to appreciate the elegance of the place. Her father would have loved to see this. Taking hold of the large knocker, she grunts in her efforts to lift the heavy metal. She only manages a single knock, but this seems to be sufficient as the doors swing open to reveal two near-identical girls regarding her with the greatest amount of curiosity.

“I-is the master of the house in?” she asks nervously, uncertain if she had made it to the wrong place after all. Perhaps more people live on the boundary than she had originally thought.

The girls look at each other, an unspoken message passing between them, before they curtsy to her and lead her inside. She gapes at the large foyer and the lavish parlor that she is lead to, gingerly taking the seat that she is offered before the two girls depart wordlessly. At first, she is completely awestruck by the sheer opulence of the palace, until she notices the thin film of dust covering the room. Even the chair she sits in seems to have been hastily dusted off.

Certainly, visitors must be rare at the boundary of life and death, but even her small home is kept more fastidiously clean than this!

She jerks a little as a man sweeps into the room; a strange-looking man, judging by his mismatched eyes and long hair almost as silver as hers. Undeniably, this must be the one whom Death had sent her to.

“Bonjour, Madame,” he greets her with a bow, his voice soft and kind. “I am Hiver Laurant, the master of this humble abode. And what might your business be all the way out here?”

He smiles gently at her, and she makes up her mind. Standing up from her seat, she forces her creaky body into the best approximation of a curtsy she can give.

“I am Frau Ehrenberg,” she declares boldly, “and I am here to be your housekeeper.”


End file.
